


sometimes ghosts suck

by awkwardspeech



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, Ghosts, Holy Water, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael Mell Loves Jeremy Heere, Tumblr AU, bmc unsolved, boyf riends au, buzzfeed unsolved au, help jeremy heere 2k19, paranormal activity, small panic, they're babey, woo gotta love that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 07:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19224736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardspeech/pseuds/awkwardspeech
Summary: jeremy wakes up in the middle of the night in an unanticipated state of dread.





	sometimes ghosts suck

**Author's Note:**

> there was an attempt.  
> i was watching buzzfeed unsolved again and remembered there was a bmc au for that on tumblr so i decided.. hey,,, why don’t i,,,, write for this y’know. so this happened. uh, yeah. kinda a last-minute decision. it’s almost the end of school so i’m slackin’
> 
> the tumblr is @ask-bmc-unsolved!!

Jeremy awoke with a start, body heavy and eyes groggy and throat scratchy it hurt to even swallow nothing. Something feels wrong and the fearful glances of his surroundings did not help. It feels like something’s always appearing at the corners of his eyes, or something’s ( or _someone_ ) is hovering behind him.

 

He fills a chill run up his spine and the exposed skin on his arms burn, feeling like flames licked at it relentlessly, tearing it apart. It burnt, it burnt really badly, and the figurative flames gradually kissed their way up to Jeremy’s collarbone, to his Adam's apple, surrounding until the nape of his neck. 

 

He doesn’t like the feeling. He knows he needs to get out, and the shallow waves of panic pooling at his stomach grew larger in seconds.

 

His fear keeps growing, keeps picking up his heartbeat’s pace that Jeremy almost forgets about Michael. Michael, where’s Michael? “Michael? Hello?” Immediately, his throat is Sahara-Desert-dry and his tastebuds go disgustingly bitter.

 

Fuck. He’s sleeping in another room,  _fuck_. Jeremy drinks in the realization and suddenly he finds it in him to bolt upright and sprint for the exit. His grip on the flashlight is tight and the hotness of the fire erupting in his skin doesn’t cool down. It worsens and Jeremy bites his lip hard, hand shooting out for the doorknob and twisting it so violently he almost breaks it.

 

“Michael? Michael!” It’s the only word he could get out as he stumbles haphazardly across the hall, ignoring whispers overlaying other whispers that ring loudly at his ears. God, they’re so loud, they’re so loud. Jeremy, albeit nauseous, makes it a need to run  _faster_ ,  and his legs ache.

 

There’s a thump and knock his ear catches from behind the door where Michael say behind and Jeremy yells, ears ringing and eyes wet and skin burning, as he swings the door open to bang against the wall mercilessly. The voices in his head die out and the burning cools down, but it still stings. Jeremy’s dilated pupils are frantic when they dart around the room in search for Michael, finally landing on the calm, sleeping figure of his best friend. There’s the wary check of his pulse and reassuring rise and fall of his chest that makes Jeremy cry out in relief. Fuck.  _Fuck_ , he’s alive. Thank  _fuck_.

 

Michael’s lips part and a groan emits from the back of the latter’s throat, Jeremy watching intently as his best friend messily shoves his glasses back upon his face. 

 

“Jeremy? What’re you doin’? Sumthin’ wrong?” The sleep laced in his tone makes his voice an octave lower, and it makes Jeremy’s heart thump loudly.

 

“We need to get out.” That’s all Jeremy says, quivering in trepidation. His voice is so shaky and Michael takes note of it, standing firm and hands tucked into his hoodie’s pockets. There’s a cold breath that tickles the back of his neck, to which Jeremy reacts with a flinch and an instinctive step closer to Michael. “C’mon, Michael,” he says, words still shaky as ever. “Grab your things, we’re going.  _Please_.”

 

Michael tips his heard forward silently, bringing Jeremy into an embrace of warmth and comfort. The desperation in Jeremy’s voice is something to be of concern about, and Michael knows very well to take him seriously. They’re getting out of this place, whatever the reason. Michael just knows something happened to have Jeremy so frantic and desperate and panicked. He whispers quiet, soft reassurances in the lanky male’s ear and brushes Jeremy’s mop of hair with his hand slowly.

 

They stay like that until Michael feels Jeremy melt, muscles beginning to lose its tensity. “We’ll go out, alright? We’re going. I’m here, it’s okay,” he breathes out. “Tell  me when we’re out of this shit-hole, yeah? Only if you want to; I won’t push.”

 

It’s his cue to start gathering their things again, safely making their way to the house’s exit. Michael flips it off when they finally make their way outside, glaring at every single window, plus the door they’d just walked out of, and holding Jeremy to his side tightly. Nobody fucks with Jeremy without the consequence of Michael Mell’s beloved middle finger. It would have been something else, maybe, if it were a different situation that hadn’t been ghost or spirits they couldn’t even  see who’d done it. Michael turns to Jeremy, who’s still visibly shaken up about the whole thing.

 

“Jeremy.”

 

Jeremy’s voice is ever-so-small when he speaks. “Yeah?”

 

“Can you pass me that little bottle of Holy Water you bring with you?”

 

Jeremy’s unreadable expression contorts to one of confusion, awkwardly fumbling in his back jean pocket and pressing the glass bottle carefully into Michael’s hand. Michael pauses, drowning them in utter silence before he speaks again in a low whisper. “Mind if I throw it somewhere? You can always get another, right? You have loads stocked back home.” 

 

He sees the corner of Jeremy’s lips quirk upward just the tiniest bit when he nods, and Michael nuzzles his nose into Jeremy’s cheek as appreciation. “Give me a moment, alright? Don’t freak out.” And with that, Michael’s dashed his way back to the house, this time cautious as he creaks the door open tediously until there’s enough space to throw the damned thing in with a crack. There’s a noise of what sounds like sizzling and multiple choruses of painful, ear-shattering cries, which Michael takes as a sign of victory.

 

“That’s right, _Fucker_! Make sure to repent your unholy ass when we’re gone! Fuck with Jeremy, I fuck with you!” Any passerby would think of him as insane; cuckoo, gone absolutely nuts, but it’s the middle of the night and all the neighborhood is, is a giant tumbleweed drifting with the wind. 

 

When Michael gets back to Jeremy, he’s grinning cheekily and his dull mood lightened. “We’re never going back there ever and that is a promise,” he voices earnestly when they get into the car, which earns him a snort from the other that makes Michael’s heart flip. Jeremy’s feeling better and so is Michael when they get home and crumple into the bed’s impossibly soft mattress with a huff.

 

Jeremy cranes his neck to look at Michael, rolling closer to him and draping an arm over his chest. It’s a risk, a big one, and it almost compares to the most deadliest, most petrifying hunts they’ve been on, but Jeremy pushes all the thoughts away because he needs to be selfish sometimes. He likes Michael. He loves Michael. He’s felt this way for a long time but he didn’t want to fuck it up, but there’s a pool in his stomach that tells him that right now is a chance to get it over with.

 

As a last minute decision, Jeremy takes it and he inhales through his nose deeply; calmly. He needs to relax.

 

Michael sputters when Jeremy pulls him close, face red and skin prickling. They’re already dating; they’re already together and it’s been announced official for so long, but Michael can’t help but melt every-time moments like these happen. He turns in his side and hugs the other back, burying his face at the crook of his neck hesitantly. 

 

“I love you,” Jeremy blurts. They haven’t shared these words for awhile now and it makes the hairs on his neck rise, breath held in. Is he being too desperate? Is he going too far? No, no, it’s all fine. They’ve said it a couple of times — it’ll be alright. Okay. Okay, okay. Jesus  Christ .

 

“I love you too,” Michael replies cheerfully, and all worries Jeremy had had just a second ago vanished. 

 

Thank fucking God, he loves him back. He said it back. “Shit,” Jeremy breathes, “I love you so much. I don’t say it a lot because I’m scared it’d be weird for you or too fast but I decided to hit the Fuck It button and say it now and I don’t regret it at all.”

 

Michael blinks, chuckling at his lover’s short babble. “Fuckin’ dork. Mahal na mahal kita din.” Jeremy feels Michael kiss his neck chastely, feeling him go limp as he drifts into a much-needed sleep. 


End file.
